Christmas
by Swordsman
Summary: This is yet another ending to The Giver, right after the sled ride down the hill. It was written as an assignment for English, and sat on the computer until tonight, when I saw that The Giver was a category. If you haven't read The Giver, you can read t


The family sat around the fire, some talking quietly, some just sitting silently, watching the flames dance and eagerly devour the long wedges of wood, and some dozing. A whole four generations was here, with all the memories, traditions, and history that went with it.   
  
A small, frail great-grandmother sat quietly in a rocking chair next to the tree, rocking slowly, smelling the pine, and watching the candles glow, and her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren splayed around her. She remembered most of her life, the faster, more exciting times, the slower times, sadness with losing three children to tuberculosis, joy at seeing the others make it, become successful, and now return here to her side. And sadness again at losing a husband a few years ago, the main part of her life. But overall, happiness. She had succeeded in the long run, with a good life, a nice house, and three children, who had given her grandchildren, who had given her great grandchildren. Her one husband had stayed with her and faithful to the end, and she had done the same.  
  
The four grandparents talked quietly, about the great grandmother, the mother of the two grandfathers, and about their children.   
  
Only one of the children was here, with her husband. They were dozing on the couch, taking a much-needed break from parenthood while their children, still young, lay on the floor near the brightly lit tree, staring at the presents in anticipation of the morning to come, only thirteen hours away. And twenty-seven minutes. Thirty-three seconds. Thirty-two. Etc, etc.  
  
  
  
  
Jonas staggered through the cold, down the nighttime street; brightly lit by outside lights, open windows, and streetlights. He turned toward the nearest house, and went up to the door. He reached for the knob, and collapsed, his stiffened fingers mere centimeters away. His last conscious thought was to roll over and curl up to try to keep Gabriel warm and safe for a precious few more minutes.  
  
  
  
  
The dozing couple was jolted awake as everyone in the room jumped at the sudden thump from the door. They looked around, confused for a few seconds, then followed their children to the source of the noise. The grand- and great grand-parents stayed put, watching and listening curiously. The husband opened the door, and gasped. His wife screamed briefly at the stiff, unmoving figure on the step in front of her, curled in the swirling snow. Then another sound came, activating her maternal instincts. She reached down and pulled aside the strange looking garment covering the boy's upper body - tunic? - to find the source of the whimpering, Gabriel. Quickly she stepped all the way out the door, and started trying to pick up the boy with the baby on his chest. Taking a hint, the husband helped, and together they managed to maneuver the frostbitten form in the door, where they placed him near the fire.   
  
The grandparents started moving around, looking for towels, hot water, blankets, etc., but the grandmother still stayed in her place. She had seen many strange things through her days, and this was not the worst by far.  
  
And then the baby started crying. Suddenly, something in her face softened, and she moved forward, just as Jonas began to stir. The elder grandfather reappeared with a towel, and started to dry the melted snow off of Jonas, as the great grandmother untied Gabriel, and held him.  
  
Feeling Gabriel removed, Jonas regained consciousness, and looked up at the lined, weathered face above him.   
  
The grandfather saw a look of shock come over the boy's face as he looked around. "What were you doing out this time of night?" he asked. "Where are you from, anyway?" he added, seeing the tunic.  
  
Jonas vaguely recalled the memory of the family around the tree, with the candles all around, the Giver's favorite. And suddenly, it came fully back, but this time it was his memory, like with the sled just a few minutes ago.  
  
This was the same place. This was the memory. The family, the room, the tree, everything.  
  
The grandfather repeated his question. "Where are you from?"  
  
And then, as the warmth seeped into him, seeming to take the place of all the memories he had left behind, one last word came to him from the memories. Not from one specific memory, but summarized out of all of the painful, evil, vile memories.  
  
The grandfather's wife repeated the question again, more softly, sympathetically.  
  
Now Jonas knew the answer. "Hell." 


End file.
